Today dawned rainy and cool as usual, and I was a little under the weather. About noon, though, the sun came out and my husband persuaded me to ride with him into the country to see a goat. But let me back up a little. Yesterday at a pet show at our granddaughter's school, I was admiring an unusual-looking hamster that looked like a mouse with whiskers that a dad had brought for his daughter.
"Well, it was either bring this, or two baby goats," the owner said. I kept quiet, but I saw Howard's ears perk up at the mention of the word "goats." Soon he was engrossed in conversation with the man, who in answer to Howard's question about the availability of goats for sale, said that his mother had some. So here we were today.
The little goat she was willing to sell was cute, and the billy goat that sired him was rather magnificent: A Spanish breed of goat with strange horns that they got in Mexico. My would-be farmer and goat fancier husband was having a wonderful time, pulling information out of our genial, if a little unusual, fellow goat lover. After a long conversation and inspection of various other animals on the place, it was decided that we would wait for the baby goat to be weaned before buying it. I thought it was time to go by then.
But not before we were shown their "awesome" dog. It was a monster! Huge, tiger-striped yellow-and-brindle with a bark like the roar of a lion! She said it was an English Mastiff. The dog was put back in the house when it looked like it might come through the fence toward us! We thanked the dog owner and got into our car as she went inside.
I picked up the phone from the seat and noticed our granddaughter Allison had called, about the time Howard discovered our car wouldn't start! To our shock and consternation, we were out of gas! He made me dial the householder's number to explain why we were still parked in front of her house, then I returned Allison's call. Turned out she was just up the road at her dad's shop and wanted a key to get something from inside. She said she would bring a can of gasoline to our aid.
Efforts to try to get it into the tank were futile, though. The spout of the can was too short. Our funnel was at home in our garage. We tried various makeshift devices and a tiny funnel from the resident's garage. Nothing worked. Allison said she would take us to look for a funnel in her dad's shop. No funnel was found. After my husband's unsuccessful search in the automotive department of a nearby store, our granddaughter took us all the way home to get one from our truck. I wanted to just stay home while there, but my house key was not in my purse, and Howard's key was with the one in our ignition back in the country.
Needless to say, we made it home after finally managing to funnel some fuel into the tank. As I reflected on our misadventure, I had to admit that it was providential that our granddaughter "just happened" to be so close and was able to help us. We had not seen her in over a month, nor had we had any contact with her, as she is always busy with her college schedule and/or working. And there she was just down the road from us! And her call was exactly on time! It had to be God!
I had to agree with Psalm 34:19, "Many are the afflictions of the righteous: But the Lord delivereth him out of them all." My husband insists we had gas all the time, that the car was just parked on uneven terrain. But I'm sure he will think twice before putting off a fill-up next time! As I will make certain to have my house key and that he carries a funnel! Some things are up to us!
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